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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26803759">Of Sugar &amp; Clay</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/photogiraffe77/pseuds/photogiraffe77'>photogiraffe77</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Domestic Violence, Explicit Language, I promise, If you can't tell, M/M, Medical Abuse, Medical Conditions, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Sexual Abuse, Slow Burn, Verbal Abuse, levi is married to someone else, obvioiusly Eruri is the goal here, there will be a love story</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:02:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,747</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26803759</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/photogiraffe77/pseuds/photogiraffe77</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Erwin left the police force due to a major work-related incident that caused him to turn in his badge for good. At the prompting of his therapist, he decided to open a pottery store and teach classes as a way to change gears and turn his hobby into a career. Not everyone in his life fully understood his change of heart, but he doesn't mind, because above all else, he is happy for the first time in a long time.</p><p>Levi is a former model and trapped in a marriage he doesn't know how to fix. He is controlled, his every movement monitored and cataloged. All he wants is his husband back but is he willing to continue to sacrifice his freedom and well-being? Perhaps if he could just convince his husband to loosen the reigns and let him find a new skill or hobby, he would be happier, and the state of their marriage would improve...</p><p>///<br/>Please check the tags, as this will not be for the faint of heart.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Levi/Erwin Smith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>136</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>299</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Hot Tea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I just want to say, first of all, yes, I did a bad thing: I started yet *another* multi-chapter fic project instead of updating the ones I have. *shrugs* sorry, friends! I have ideas in my head and I have to run with them. Each fic is so different from the other, and I can't help but write according to the mood I'm in.</p><p>Anyway, thanks for giving this one a chance! I will have more notes at the bottom! As always, please double-check the tags before continuing, as this work will have a lot of triggers and angst and not so good vibes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Levi, I’m home.”</p><p>The familiar call of his husband’s voice sent goosebumps flaring across his pale skin. <em> Shit </em> , he thought, eyes falling on the clock above the kitchen sink. He was home early. And the man was <em> never </em> home early.</p><p>“In here,” Levi called back, trying to speed things along. Nope, this could not be happening. Nothing was ready, and if anything spurred on William’s anger, it was when things weren’t done on time. The man loathed disorder, anything that hinted toward the unclean or disorganized. And he especially hated when his dinner wasn’t ready the moment when he walked through the door.</p><p>“Darling, there you are,” his husband commented, his voice possessing that poisonous honey-like quality as he approached the short, dark-haired creature standing at the stove. Levi lowered his spatula where he was sauteing mushrooms in a cast-iron skillet to turn and give the tall brunette a kiss, Levi having to stand on his tiptoes to do so.</p><p>“Welcome home, William,” Levi did his best to coo, hoping to keep the nervous inflection out of his voice. “You’re home early.”</p><p>“I am,” he said, giving Levi a long, pointed look. His sharp green eyes appeared tired, the faint purple bags placed just beneath them only solidified that fact. “But I told you I would be.” </p><p>Levi swallowed thickly, giving his best smile. If William saw him smile, the night,  and maybe even the weekend, could possibly be salvaged. “I’m sorry, I must have missed you saying that.” For the life of him, Levi could not remember his husband saying a word regarding leaving work early today. That couldn’t be true, could it? They had barely spoken all week thanks to William’s new-found role at the office, taking over as interim CEO while the former man in the position had stepped down due pressure from the board. His husband had a very stressful job, it was no doubt.</p><p>“I texted you, Levi,” William stated, pressing a firm hand just above Levi’s elbow, giving it a less-than-gentle squeeze. “How is it that a man who is normally so fixated on his phone seems to overlook urgent messages from the most important person in his life? Hmm?” Levi winced as the pressure increased, causing him to drop the spatula, landing on his bare foot, the hot oil stinging his skin. <em> Don’t lash out, don’t fight back, don’t cry. He’s just tired and stressed. </em> “Or am I not that person to you anymore? After everything I’ve given you?”</p><p>“No, of course, you are!” Levi exclaimed, shaking his head, trying to smile. <em> Don’t let him see that you’re in pain, it will only make it worse. </em>“I just came into the kitchen to get dinner started and I left my phone in the living room. I’m so sorry.”</p><p>“What if I had texted you that I would be late? Would you have served your hardworking spouse cold food?” He was so menacing like that, still dressed in his suit, a look that commanded power and respect. He was always dressed to the nines, always worried about appearances and how he was perceived. His dark brows pinched above his smoldering eyes, clearly very upset. Levi thought he looked his age when he did that, showcasing his crow’s feet and forehead lines. Yes, there was no doubt that his husband was 50, not at this moment.</p><p>“No, I would never--”</p><p>But Levi didn’t have a chance to finish that sentence, as William cut him off. “You say that, but you don’t answer your phone. Maybe you don’t need one at all.”</p><p>“Ah, wait, William, I need my phone to--”</p><p>“To what?” William challenged, the food on the stove now burning since Levi couldn’t stir it, his arm locked in the taller man’s iron grip. <em> Fuck fuck fuck </em>, Levi repeated in his head like a mantra. This whole night, and his plan, were now ruined. He had one chance, and he blew it.</p><p>“My app,” Levi stated simply, trying to make his voice sickly sweet, taking on that sugary quality he knew William loved. The statuesque businessman loved to be pleaded, feel needed, like he had all the power. “I need it for my pump, please, you know that.”</p><p>William recoiled, releasing his hold on Levi with a forceful push, prompting the shorter husband to suck in a sharp noise through his teeth. “You are so ungrateful. I knew it. Where is your phone?” he asked, turning on the heel of his very expensive leather shoe, storming out of the large, open kitchen. Levi reached over and turned off the stove before following the older man.</p><p>“William, wait! Please! I’m so sorry, don’t do this,” he begged padding quickly after his husband. <em> No, no, no, don’t take the app away, not again, please. </em> He felt the anxiety cloying at this chest, feeling as though it might rip open. Not again, not again, not again.</p><p>“Don’t you fucking make commands of me,” William growled, words seething between tightly clenched teeth as he continued to make quick work of locating Levi’s phone. It was where it was supposed to be, face-up on the coffee table, and ready for inspection. Even though they shared an iCloud account, every evening William went through Levi’s phone, and he would have to answer for any messages, Google searches, photos, Instagram likes, apps, <em> anything, </em> and <em> everything </em> that William might deem out of place or unacceptable. </p><p>“I’m sorry, please,” Levi was begging now. Not only was his phone the only connection he had to the outside world, but it also controlled the one device Levi needed to live: his insulin pump. </p><p>“You think someone else will want you, Levi?” William asked, voice incredulous and mocking as he snatched the device from the table, holding the iPhone up in the air. It didn’t have a password, it never would, Levi would never be afforded such privileges. He was lucky to have a phone at all. The one time he did set up a password a few years back, Levi was given the first of several concussions he would come to recieve by his husband’s hands.</p><p> “Do you think someone else wants to touch you? That someone else wants to fuck you while they look at that atrocious pump attached to your hip?” Levi couldn’t answer, these were rhetorical questions; it would only end up worse if he tried to defend himself. He could only stare, mouth hanging open, as the man he vowed to spend the rest of his life with continued with his pointless interrogation. “You think someone else will pay for it all?”</p><p>“No, of course not, William,” Levi stated, pushing back tears, struggling to find the right words to placate his husband. “You’re the only one, just you.”</p><p>William huffed, but turned his attention to the device in his hands, scrolling through Levi’s accounts, taking clear mental notes of what he was reading. Levi stood idly by, watching, dread filling his stomach. This was going to derail his plan. He needed tonight to go well before he asked, and now, William would find it and shoot it down because he was pissed and Levi ruined it. <em> Just like I ruin everything else. </em></p><p>“What is this?” the businessman asked, holding out the white iPhone, a colorful ad pulled up on the screen.</p><p>“It’s a pottery class,” Levi answered weakly, folding his hands in front of him, failing to meet his husband’s eye.</p><p>“Look at me and speak up. I swear to God, you’re not a child, you’re a 27-year-old man.” His voice was somehow even angrier than it had been before. “Fucking act like it!”</p><p>“It’s a flyer for a pottery class,” the petite, ravenette man repeated, making his voice a little louder, bringing his face up toward his husband.</p><p>The businessman scoffed, pocketing the device. “Something else for you to be shit at. Here’s an idea, why don’t I sign you up for a cooking class? Maybe then you’ll make something edible for supper every now and then.”</p><p>Levi sighed, fighting back tears. They didn’t use to be this way - William didn’t use to be this way. He ran a hand through his dark locks, his nimble fingers catching the fine hairs of his undercut. They didn’t use to fight like this. </p><p>“If that’s what you think is best,” Levi replied finally, knowing he couldn’t keep quiet much longer, not when William was expecting an answer.</p><p>The taller husband looked smug, thin lips curling in a possessive smile. “Of course I know best, Levi,” William stated. “Now that you’ve ruined dinner and my appetite, I’m going out.” He reached forward, latching onto Levi’s lean shoulder like a vice-grip. “Make yourself useful and clean up this house while I’m gone. And I’m keeping your phone.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>“Well look what the cat dragged in,” Erwin commented, eyeing his newest visitor as the bell above the shop’s front door chimed a melodic, welcoming sound.</p><p>“Piss off,” came the gruff voice, the man so tall he had to duck a little to clear the low entrance of the studio, the glass door coming to a close behind him, sealing away the harsh New England wind.</p><p>Erwin couldn’t help but smile at the familiar welcome- he couldn’t remember Mike greeting him in any other way. “It’s my shop and you’re telling <em> me </em>to piss off?” he laughed, shaking his head.</p><p>His best friend only hummed in disapproval, taking a step further into the small store, shrugging his wide shoulders. “We’ve known each other for over 20 years, Smith, it’s my job to tell you when and where to piss off.”</p><p>“I was your superior once,” Erwin quickly reminded him, a smug expression on his handsome face. He was seated on a tall bar stool behind the counter, adding finishing touches to a small ceramic cup, the cold-colored hues reflecting the winter scape outside. </p><p>“Yeah, <em> once </em>,” Mike chided with a laugh. It wasn’t hearty nor overly warm, not like it usually was. Perhaps it was still too sore of a subject.</p><p>“Come to finally sit behind the potter’s wheel?” the store owner asked, raising an inquisitive, thick eyebrow. Mike was occupied, carefully looking over the tall glass shelves the lined the storefront, each rack home to various pieces of artwork, all done by Erwin. There was a variety of dinnerware sets - bowls of aquamarine, cups of jade, plates of slate gray. Each piece was unique but still connected in a way, harboring a piece of the blonde potter’s heart. He would tell people this, and some would smile at how cheesy it sounded, while others would nod in understanding.</p><p>Mike was definitely more of the former.</p><p>“Hell no,” he stated firmly, finally peeling his light green eyes away from the handmade dishes to meet Erwin’s sky blue ones. “I don’t fit behind that damn thing.”</p><p>“You’re barely three inches taller than me, Mike, and I sit at the wheel just fine.”</p><p>“So you say,” the taller, sandy blonde clicked his tongue, “you’re gonna get a bad back doing that all the time. If you wanted to ruin your spine, you should have just stuck around the force.”</p><p>Erwin didn’t have in him at that moment to remind Mike that the police force <em> did </em> ruin his spine, but just in the metaphorical sense. So instead, he said, “Nana would love something homemade from you. Valentine’s Day isn’t too far off.”</p><p>“How the fuck am I supposed to make her something for Valentine’s Day when she’s seen the work you do, hmm? I’m setting myself up for a brutal teasing.” Mike finally approached the counter and turned, leaning against it, eyes fixed at the light snow falling outside. </p><p>“Then get her lessons with me instead. I have a beginner’s class starting at the end of the month,” the blonde suggested to his friend, finally lowering his piece. He would need to fire it in the kiln soon, but he had a few other cups he needed to glaze before that. It was much easier just to heat as big of a batch as possible.</p><p>“Are you just suggesting that to fill seats in your classes?” Mike teased, arching a thin eyebrow at his former commanding officer and partner.</p><p>“Nah,” he said, wiping his hands on the rag he stored in the pocket in the front of his apron, “I haven’t had any issues with people signing up since I opened up shop. I’ve been really pleased with the turnout. I was merely suggesting it because I think Nanaba wants to try her hand at it,” Erwin paused a moment, blinking, “no pun intended.”</p><p>“I’ll think about,” Mike said, uncrossing his arms, watching Erwin keenly as he maneuvered around the shop, tidying up before he closed. “But I stopped by to ask you out for a drink. Me and Nan were gonna go eat at an Italian place tonight, but she got holed up at the hospital.”</p><p>“Is everything alright?” Erwin asked, his question filled with genuine concern.</p><p>Mike waved his hand dismissively. “Yeah, there was just a pileup off the Interstate, people don’t know how to fucking drive in a bit of snow. If that’s the case, they have no business being on the roads during a New England winter.”</p><p>“Your wife is a hell of a nurse,” the blonde potter affirmed, untying his green apron, the front stained from glaze and dried clay, “at least they’re in good hands.”</p><p>“That she is, and that they are,” Mike nodded, a look of fondness touching his masculine features. He had sharp cheekbones and a defined chin, though his handsome face was also home to a very large nose, one that came in handy during drug busts and stakeouts. Sure, the police force had K9 dogs, and well-trained ones at that. But should they ever be late or unavailable, Erwin knew to trust his partner’s sense of smell. “Anyway, do you want to come out for a drink or not?”</p><p>As he hung his apron up on the hook behind the register, replacing it with his coat, he shook his head. “I’m sober, Mike,” he reminded his friend gently.</p><p>“Well, what the fuck do you drink now? Tea?” the tall police officer asked, scrubbing a hand over his short beard. </p><p>“Yeah, I actually love tea,” the potter said with a smile, zipping up the front of his heavy peacoat. </p><p>“Well fuck me, I guess we gotta go have tea.” </p><p>“Zacharias, no offense, while I might be a bisexual man,” Erwin said with a chuckle, ushering the pair out the door, “I would still never fuck you.”</p><p>“Well thank Christ for that.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>“Tea, huh?” Mike asked, staring down into the beverage, steam rising from the surface. He gave it a hearty sniff, for good measure. </p><p>“Yes, tea. It’s good for you.”</p><p>“Hmm,” Mike hummed apprehensively but took a sip anyway. He blanched a little, doing his best to hide it from his best friend, though not much slipped past Erwin. He set the mug down on the tabletop and propped his chin up on the palm of his hand. “So, how is everything?” </p><p>Erwin took a long sip from his mug, conjuring the courage to tell his best friend about one of his most recent visitors. “Marie stopped by last week.” This time, Mike did little to hide his disgust. Erwin chose to ignore it, continuing on, “she just wanted to see how I was feeling and how the shop was going.”</p><p>“If she gave a flying fuck about how you were feeling, she wouldn’t have signed those divorce papers.” Erwin tried to interrupt, but Mike held up his hand, clearly not finished. “I mean it, Smith. I don’t know why you still entertain her bullshit. She just wants to look good for her parents, make it seem like she really tried with you even though she shacked up with fucking Dok before the ink could even dry on her signature.”</p><p>“She wanted a divorce even before…” Erwin trailed off, never quite sure how to phrase it. He met Mike’s eyes, who only gave him a knowing, yet melancholy look, prompting Erwin to continue, “everything.” That was the word he landed on, the vague description he knew filled in enough blanks for the two people who were present. “I didn’t expect her to stay afterward.”</p><p>“She wanted you to spend less time working, she said. She always bitched about how she was terrified of you out in the field, yada yada. But then she didn’t stick by you when you turned in your badge.” Mike snorted in disapproval, his nostrils flaring a little. Erwin had heard this speech from his friend before, it hadn’t changed over the past 18 months. “I just don’t get where she gets the gall to come and visit you.”</p><p>“We were married for five years, Mike, and she’s a good person. I know she still cares about me.” Erwin’s eyes softened at the thought of his ex-wife. They met a few years after Erwin graduated college, earning his Bachelor of Science degree in Criminal Justice, minoring in Art History. She had studied marketing and worked as an ad manager for a large PR firm in the city. Her job, while not easy, had a routine - in the office by nine, out the door no later than six, home each evening and most weekends, barring a special event or necessary travel. She had been so eager to start a family, citing their age and time together as factors. However, Erwin’s profession always kept that dream at arm’s length. </p><p>“I won’t raise a baby alone, Erwin,” she had told him one night, a few months before she filed for divorce. “I won’t do it.”</p><p>“I won’t make you,” he had tried to comfort her, reaching for her hand beneath the duvet. She had only snatched away and turned her back. Looking back, Erwin knew that was the night she had made her decision.</p><p>“I just never thought you’d be a 37-year-old divorcee with a pottery shop,” Mike stated bluntly, pulling Erwin back to the present. </p><p>The blonde chuckled and shook his head. “You and me both, my friend.”</p><p>“Are you looking?”</p><p>“For a date?” Erwin asked, seeking clarification.</p><p>“Yeah,” Mike said simply, giving a small shrug. Erwin paused thoughtfully, looking down into his tea. “I mean, Nana said she could set you up with one of the nurses on her floor. And damn, nurses are the best, Erwin. I can’t get enough of the scrub pants.”</p><p>The blonde potter smiled, curling a large hand around his beverage, amused at Mike’s antics. “I’m just going to stay single for a while. I think that’s best for me at the moment, anyway.”</p><p>“Jesus, you won’t drink and you won’t fuck. Did you convert to a Mormon when you opened your shop?”</p><p>“I think you know the answer to that,” he huffed, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, but you really need some ass.” </p><p>Erwin turned his gaze out the window, watching the traffic pass by as the gentle flurries continued to fall from the sky. He didn’t need anyone, not right now, at least. Not with friends like Mike and Nanaba, and the love of a beautiful husky at home named Everest, and all of his customers and students at the shop. He wasn’t lonely, per se, not exactly. He was just in the middle of a personal renaissance, attempting to move forward and shed an identity that didn’t fit him anymore. He was no longer married and he wasn’t a police officer. He wasn’t the respectable, noteworthy, ‘Detective Smith’ who alternated between working and drinking himself to death. </p><p>No, now he was just Erwin, the divorced, 37-year-old pottery store owner and instructor who liked to take long runs through the park with his therapy dog and struggled between choosing herbal or chamomile tea to fill his thermos. He didn’t believe in his heart that he had much to offer anyone.</p><p>“Well, I better get going, I need to check on Everest,” Erwin said finally, moving to stand from the small cafe table.</p><p>“Sure,” Mike nodded, following suit and rising to his feet. He pulled on his gray wool coat. “Give her a treat for me. And call me tomorrow, yeah? Nan wants to make something special for Sunday dinner.”</p><p>Erwin gave his best friend a small half-smile. “Sure thing.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>It was a long shot, but it was worth a try. Levi knew he had to at least ask - it was his only real chance. Besides, he trusted Pixis enough to know how to ask. If William could be tricked into believing it was his idea, the higher the odds that he’d say yes.</p><p>“Levi, my boy,” greeted the older man as he walked into the kitchen, kind eyes bright and shimmering. “How are you?”</p><p>Summoning the strength to offer his husband’s Chairman a smile, Levi replied, “I am alright, sir. How about yourself?”</p><p>It was the second Saturday of the month, and William and Pixis would be off to the country club, keeping their long-standing tradition. In the cold months, they played racquetball, and in the warm ones, they had a tee time at the course. Levi used to come along and keep Mrs. Pixis company while their husbands played, but not anymore.</p><p>“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Dot?” the much older man corrected teasingly, rubbing at the back of his bald head. </p><p><em> William doesn’t like it if I call you by your first name, </em> Levi thought, but didn’t dare voice it aloud. He decided on changing the subject altogether. “It will be just a moment. William is upstairs getting his gear together, but he’ll be along shortly.” Levi slid a cup of coffee across the island to the Chairman - the dark-haired man always really looked forward to his company. </p><p>Pixis was a lively fellow, and despite his advancing age, he was spry, sharp-witted, and a lot of fun. He was one of the few people in the upper-echelon of Stohess Pharmaceuticals to attend their small, private wedding. William was very self-conscious about being an openly gay man and holding a position of power, but Pixis never judged. In fact, at one point at a company Christmas party, the Chairman had been a little drunk and winked at Levi, saying, “if I wasn’t already married to the most beautiful woman in the world, I would have married you.” It was harmless flirting, Levi teasingly calling him a ‘gross old man’, earning him a warm laugh. Not only were they gay, but they had a 23-year age gap that made many people uncomfortable, and it was a relief to know that someone as powerful as Pixis was accepting of their marriage.</p><p>“Sounds great!” the bald man stated, taking a sip, knowing full-well that Levi ‘Irished’ it up for him, using a little whiskey in place of creamer. Mrs. Pixis would have a cow if she knew, but Levi would never tell. “You get better at this every time.”</p><p>“Thank you, sir,” Levi smiled, doing his best to hide his shaking hands. He was feeling a little faint, but that was to be expected - he needed his phone to work his pump.</p><p>“How is the app treating you?” Pixis asked, almost as if reading his mind, leaning forward on the counter after another long swig of his coffee. “I know you’re the one beta-testing it, Levi, and we on the board are so grateful.”</p><p>“It’s my pleasure,” Levi assured him, which it really was. “I just hope I am helpful enough so that you can put it on the market. It’ll really be a life-changing tool.”</p><p>“Right you are! And I’m sure you’re doing a fine job. Don’t hold back any criticisms, okay?” Pixis laughed, patting Levi affectionately on the wrist. The shorter man nodded, assuring the Chairman that he would be honest about the new device. “So, what have you been up to, hmm? Did you have a good birthday and Christmas?”</p><p>No, it had actually been the worst birthday and holiday season to date, but Levi did what he did best: smiled through a lie. “It was great, sir. How about you?”</p><p>Pixis took another huge gulp of his beverage, clearly a fan of the whiskey mixed in it - Levi knew the man didn’t give two shits about coffee. “It was swell! I got to take the missus down to Florida to see the grandbabies - she liked that, of course.”</p><p>“Sounds like a lovely time,” the dark-haired man stated, trying to govern the envy and longing in his voice. Oh, to have traveled and spent quality time with William. Maybe their marriage needed a getaway of some kind? Time away from it all to really reset? Levi scolded himself inwardly - that wouldn’t work, not with William’s new position. It felt like everything had just been so out of control lately, and maybe if Levi could do better, it wouldn’t seem so bad. Maybe if he could take a class, get out of the house, he could be happier when William came home, more attentive to the older man’s needs. William didn’t want him to model anymore, and that was fine, Levi left it behind. But he needed something, any reason to escape their cold, lonesome Mc-Fucking-Mansion that he spent entirely too much time cooped up in.</p><p>Pixis was silent a moment, and Levi knew William would be down any minute. Summoning the bit of vibrato he had pooled in his stomach, Levi quickly spat out what he wanted to say. “Actually, sir, I was thinking of taking a pottery class.”</p><p>Pixis raised his gray eyebrows and a wide grin split his face in two. “Oh yeah? Kat likes to do stuff like that from time to time. Are you going to sign up?”</p><p>“Well,” Levi pawed at the back of his neck, catching a bit of the sweat gathered there. “I haven’t convinced William yet.”</p><p>“What’s there to convince?” the older man asked genuinely. Pixis was painfully unaware of their situation, completely unassuming and trusting. Sure, everyone knew that William had a bit of a temper, though nobody but Levi knew the full extent. </p><p>Levi had rehearsed for this question as he laid in bed last night, looking for the courage to bring it up this morning to the Chairman. “Well, I think William worries it’ll distract from my duties at home…”</p><p>“Duties at home?” Pixis repeated, clearly confused. “You don’t have kiddos and you’re not even 30! What ‘duties at home’?” he scoffed. “Before our sons were born, Kat did all sorts of things. She met up with the gals for wine night and took cooking and painting classes. She even joined one of those spin cycle club things once we were empty-nesters. You have to be bored stiff in here!”</p><p>“I am!” Levi exclaimed, relieved to feel like he was <em> finally </em> being heard. If only his own husband would listen. “I am, Dot! Can you say something to William today? Maybe start off by mentioning all the fun Kat had and how productive and happier she was at home?”</p><p>Pixis lowered his mug and reached across the counter to give Levi’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, Levi doing his best to pretend the flesh beneath his crew-neck sweatshirt wasn’t bruised from where William had nearly crushed his clavicle the night before. “Sure, son, I’ll say something.”</p><p>Ignoring the moisture building in his eyes, the brunette offered his friend a soft, ‘thank you’. </p><p>“Ah, Dot, there you are,” William greeted his superior as he walked through the threshold of the kitchen. He was dressed in a red tracksuit, his gym back slung over his broad shoulder. He wore a smile, but Levi knew it wasn’t genuine. “Are you ready to head out?”</p><p>“Billy, my boy! Let’s hit the road!” Pixis greeted, rising to his feet. He gave one long look at Levi before turning back to the CEO. “Let’s take my Range Rover today, hmm? A bit of snow came down, but I’ll get us safely to the club.”</p><p>“Sounds good,” William gave him a nod. “Let’s go.”</p><p>“Sure, I’ll see you around, Levi. Thank you for the coffee,” Pixis gave him a wink, and Levi felt his cheeks warm - he was so grateful to have someone to talk to.</p><p>“You’re welcome, sir.”</p><p>“Oh, and before I forget,” William stated, digging in the pocket of his track pants, “you left your phone on the charger. You wouldn’t want to miss logging into the app and miss your medication, would you, babe?”</p><p>“Of course,” Levi reached for the device, heart pounding in his chest. <em> Finally </em>. </p><p>“What do you say?” William asked, holding the phone above his head. Levi stood a whopping 5’2”, a tiny, lean little thing compared to his husband, who towered over him by nearly a foot. With his phone thrust high in the air, Levi didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of reaching it. He felt his cheeks warm once again, this time, out of embarrassment. William liked to act cute in front of other people, play the part of the fun-loving, teasing husband. He used to really be that way, but he had changed so much. Levi had learned about a year ago when William was being genuine and when he was putting on a show; it was a fine line that required a certain level of skill. </p><p>He cleared his throat and turned his gray eyes to the floor, holding out a hand, palm face up. “Please, sir,” he whispered.</p><p>“I can’t hear you when you mumble, Levi,” his husband chastised.</p><p>“Please, sir,” he repeated, louder, embarrassed adrenaline flooding through his body.</p><p>“Good boy,” William praised, pressing the iPhone into Levi’s hand at the same time he pressed a kiss to his cheek. “See you for dinner. I’ll be home at 6 o’clock sharp. I’ll text you if anything changes, so do keep an eye on your phone.” It was a warning without William ever having to change his tone - it was abundantly clear that Levi was to not repeat last night’s mistake.</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>Pixis offered one final wave before the two disappeared, heading toward the front of the house.</p><p>Levi unlocked his phone and opened the app than was connected to his insulin pump, breathing a sigh of relief as he administered the medicine he knew he needed. Maybe today wouldn’t be such a bad day after all. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay, this has a rough start - sorry. I love Levi but I apparently can't help but torture him? Anyway, I hope you're in for another wild ride and a long haul, because we're gonna have one. Please leave me a comment and let me know your thoughts! Your feedback means so much to me.</p><p>Also, a <b>HUGE</b> shout-out to my girl Meaka!! Not only is she just a really kick-ass friend, but she helps me so much with the medical stuff and is always so encouraging of all my ideas. Sis- you are the real MVP!</p><p>Again, thank you all for reading and I hope you're being safe and well.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Meeting Place</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey all!! Thank you so much for all the love and comments in the first chapter! It really means a lot. I hope to keep the momentum and that you like this chapter, too. See you at the bottom!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Keeping a routine was the most important part - the key to mental health and maintaining sobriety, if his therapist’s advice was to be trusted. So each morning followed the same steps for Erwin: he would wake up at 6 a.m. sharp to run Everest around the park just a few blocks down from his apartment, which was fixed just above the pottery shop. They would go for several miles, usually until Erwin’s lungs felt like they might collapse and fold in on themselves, though Everest never seemed quite as bothered. Then, upon returning home, he would shower and prepare breakfast while watching the morning news. He pretended not to be overly invested in the crime updates, but he was. He would chew on his toast and wonder if he were still in the field, would it make a difference?</p><p>After washing dishes and finishing the news, he would take his cup of coffee to his studio, where he would work on pieces until the shop opened at 11. He would then man the counter, greeting customers - a few locals, but mainly tourists, with whom he would have pleasant conversations, usually answering the same questions throughout the day. ‘Oh, how do you like your visit so far?’ ‘I’ve been making pottery since high school.’ ‘Yes, I made all the pieces myself.’ By 5 p.m., he would close the shop to eat dinner and walk Everest once more before he taught evening pottery classes at 6:30, at least when they were in session. After the course ended at 8:30, Erwin would go back upstairs once more, make a cup of tea, and binge watch bad reality TV- a genre he very much pretended to hate. When he had his fill up <em> Keeping Up with the Kardashians </em> or whatever trash he used to occupy his brain, he would lay down in his comfortable queen-sized bed, Everest curled up his side, only to go to sleep and do it all again the next morning.</p><p>Sundays, however, were the expectation to the routine and were reserved for two things: an AA meeting followed by dinner at the Zacharias household. He didn’t teach courses on Sundays, so once the shop closed at 5, he would walk Everest one more time before climbing into his red S-10 pickup, the one Marie said she hated so much. She asked him to upgrade it several times, or trade it in for a more ‘family’ car. But he couldn’t do it - the truck had been his father’s, and it was a sentimental token more than anything. He would never let it go.</p><p>He pulled up to the church parking lot, watching from the cab as a few of the men he recognized smoked outside the front doors. He could practically smell the menthol from where he sat. A low tune droned over the radio, something from Tom Petty, if his ears didn't betray him. The cold would linger on for a few more months, the holiday season having come and gone, taking with it any semblance of joy one would get from winter weather. For Erwin, once the Christmas tree was put away, he’d be happy for 80 degree days where the sun didn’t set so early.</p><p>“Here we go,” he whispered under his breath, glancing at the clock on the dashboard before exiting his truck. He usually tried to go in last to avoid talking too much. He got something out of the meetings - of course he did. Otherwise, he wouldn’t go. And he was still sober, which was also a testament in of itself. But the blonde potter found himself doing more listening than anything, quietly taking in the stories of those around him. He shared, rarely, making a few mentions of Everest or the store, but that was it. He never spoke about his divorce, or the police force, but especially never the incident.</p><p>“Hey, Erwin,” greeted one of the men who was still finishing his smoke as Erwin took long strides up to the building. “How was your week?”</p><p>“Fine, Stephen. How was yours?” he responded in kind, offering a smile he hoped looked genuine. Stephen was probably in his late 50’s, a large man with square shoulders and a burly beard. He always wore flannels and work boots. Erwin vaguely remembered that he worked in a factory and was married. He was nice enough, and they usually sat by one another in group. He didn’t talk much either but was still friendly.</p><p>The sizable man shrugged nonchalantly, taking a long, final drag of his smoke. “Another fucking week,” he sighed, his breath catching in the cold air. The sunset was just on the horizon, touching the sky in pinks and purples. </p><p>“Sounds about right,” Erwin said, nodding toward the door. “See you inside?”</p><p>“Yeah, save me a spot.”</p><p>“Sure thing.” He walked in the side door of Elm Street First Methodist Church, the familiar tan walls and white tiles greeting him. Other than his weekly AA meetings, the last time he stepped foot into a church was to marry Marie. All things considered, he didn’t have the fondest memories of religious institutions. </p><p>He trekked his usual path to the meeting room, the space small and already filled. The circle of metal folding chairs, the half-burnt pot of coffee, the shuffle of papers: these were the staples that held his recovery together. He found his way to a free chair, sliding his coat off and placing it on the back before having a seat. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket to silence it, catching a glimpse from a new text from Mike.</p><p><strong>Mike [5:48 p.m.]</strong>: <em>Wifey is making shrimp alfredo and garlic bread. </em></p><p><strong>Mike [5:51 p.m.]:</strong> <em>Will you pick up a dessert? I am feeling like a cheesecake.</em></p><p>Erwin responded that he would, and then turned the device off. By that time, Stephen joined him, styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand, black and bitter. Erwin wholeheartedly believed that no amount of sugar or milk could fix the taste of it, so he didn’t bother to get himself a cup anymore. Stephen, however, seemed to lack functioning taste buds. Either that, or he was a glutton for punishment. Or had shit taste in coffee.</p><p>“Who’s the group leader today?” he asked quietly, murmuring over the lip of the white styrofoam.</p><p>“Should be Zeke,” Erwin replied, though it was without enthusiasm. Zeke was okay, he certainly knew the 12 steps inside and out. But the man seemed to enjoy hearing the sound of his own voice more than anything. </p><p>“Welcome, everyone!” the man in question greeted as he popped through the awning to the meeting room. “I am leading the group today. How was your week?” This earned him a few mild murmurs, quiet and tired. Erwin opted not to say anything, suddenly wishing he had something to occupy his hands.</p><p>That was probably the most cathartic thing about making pottery - his hands were always occupied. He got to focus on what those two, powerful appendages could create, rather than on what they had destroyed. If he lingered too heavily on the latter, it would surely ruin him. It had been almost 19 months since the accident, 18 since Marie filed divorced, 12 since it was finalized, 7 since he opened the shop, and 5 since he was completely sober. He counted things in months, now, as was the way of the recovering alcoholic. Everything had a timeline and a tally mark. </p><p>Quitting drinking wasn’t something Erwin thought he needed, not at first. He made excuses, saying he could just cut back, and damn did he try. He hated feeling like a cliche, even when he was a detective. He had seen enough dead bodies and arrested too many rapists and pedophiles and murders just to watch them walk or get the bare minimum sentence- of course, alcohol was a coping mechanism. Who wouldn’t need an emotional crutch after years on the front line?</p><p>Marie pointed it out sometimes, always using that cool, calculated voice that was a bit undermining and callous. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” she would ask from her perch at the kitchen island, hair tied back away from her face, wrapped in a bathrobe with a book in her hand. </p><p>“No,” he would reply simply before bringing his whiskey glass to his lips. He was never violent, or angry, nor did he treat his wife with malice. He just drank until he finally fell asleep, a way to ensure he didn’t wake up once throughout the four or so hours of rest he got each night. </p><p>He hid his sobriety at first, ashamed that he was at a place he felt like he couldn’t control it anymore. He was embarrassed by the fact that he needed help. Not even Mike knew. As his former police partner, and as someone who was on the scene the day everything changed, he knew that Erwin was undergoing mandatory therapy, as issued by the police force. But what Mike didn’t know was that even after opening the pottery store, Erwin still didn’t feel whole and that his drinking had only gotten worse. Erwin decided that it was his own responsibility to turn things around - he wouldn’t put the burden on others. He only recently shared with Mike and Nana that he had actually quit. </p><p>“A big milestone is coming up for you, isn’t it, Erwin?” </p><p>Hearing his name snapped his attention forward, the blue-eyed man lifting his head. Zeke was staring at him, and so were the rest of the group. “Pardon?” he asked, not entirely sure he heard correctly.</p><p>“It’s your six months, isn’t it? At the end of the month?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah, I guess it is,” he replied sheepishly.</p><p>“Congratulations,” Zeke told him. This was followed by several more kind offerings of ‘congratulations’, Stephen giving him a small pat on the back.</p><p>“Thank you,” he said simply, politely nodding his head. Five months down, a lifetime to go.</p><p>*</p><p>“God, look at you,” he crooned, his sweaty body pushing against Levi’s, that sickeningly satisfied look painted on his face. William always looked like that after sex, like the cat who ate the canary, like he was some gift to mankind, to Levi. </p><p>There was a point in their relationship where he was actually attracted to William. He did have a beautiful smile and sharp, emerald eyes. He was tall, and a few years back, he sported an athletic build. He used to make Levi laugh, filling him with bubbling joy and sweet words. But Levi couldn’t feel those things anymore, though he tried, he forced himself, trying to trick his brain and his body. Being with William was different now that he had changed, turning into this possessive and controlling person. Perhaps Levi’s biggest downfall was believing that his husband could change back - maybe if he just loved him hard enough, or cared just a bit more, or gave just another piece of himself, then William would revert back into who he once was. The thought never once occurred to the petite beauty that perhaps his husband had simply become the person he always was: vindictive, manipulative, and selfish. </p><p>“Do I look good?” Levi asked, heart still pounding in his chest. He felt considerably better since yesterday, once he had control over his insulin pump again. William had returned home from racquetball with a renewed vigor and an improved mood, a smile plastered on his face. He even kissed Levi tenderly as he walked through the door before taking a seat at the table, where the shorter husband served up a delicious, home-cooked meal. They had spent the weekend in bed after that, offering up touches and kisses that felt so much like they did five years ago when he was just a 22-year-old model trying his best to make ends meet and afford the incredibly expensive vials of NovoLog. </p><p>“Not bad, Levi,” William whispered, pushing those matted, dark locks away from Levi’s face. “But remember, I’m the only one who will ever find you beautiful.”</p><p>Levi winced under his husband’s harsh words as well as his bruising touch, large hands snaking across his slender chest and shoulders, leaving red marks in their wake. He loved to score and scar Levi, branding him, labeling him as taken, as if the wedding band on his left hand and the new last name affixed to his signature wasn’t proof enough. Levi wasn’t sure when enough would ever come to his husband, or if it ever would.</p><p>“I know,” he replied, well aware of his place. There was a time that Levi believed he was beautiful, despite his illness. That was also the time when he was paid to be in photographs for clothes and makeup, despite his compact height. He had stunning bone structure, gorgeous hair, and striking, mysterious eyes, gray and metallic, almost a gun-metal blue. He was good at modeling, but he had a niche look that didn’t always earn a high dollar. He used to believe that meeting William was a ticket to a better life, one that was hard-earned after a youth of devastating circumstances and strenuous work. He saw William as some sort of savior, a rescuer pulling him from troubled waters. With William, he didn’t need to worry about his next meal nor his medicine. That, and coupled with his mature good looks and charisma, this life was a dream come true.</p><p>Levi used to be mouthy, a fighter through and through. William called it a rebellious spirit, but also stated that it was refreshing and stimulating, offering praise for Levi’s captivating spunk. He used to encourage that behavior, finding it endearing, even. There was a shift, though, about two years back. It happened slowly, but looking back, the young brunette could pinpoint when the change occurred; an avalanche that began with a snowball.</p><p>It was at a garden party, Levi and William attended many, as was sort of the custom for those in their tax bracket. It consisted of booze and food served on pewter trays, live music, string lights dancing from ancient trees that towered in oversized backyards. Levi would never cheat on his husband, never even dream of it. But when he was getting too close with the neighbor’s college-aged son (Levi’s age at the time), a young man named Jean, William threw a fit and demanded they leave the party immediately. Jean was nothing more than a friend, someone finally his own age of whom he could talk to. Marrying someone 23 years his senior seemed like an idea with very few cons, that was until he realized how dreadfully lonely it would be. He didn’t have friends his age - he left them behind when he married. And all of William’s friends had spouses relatively their own age. Levi never felt ashamed of their age gap, not usually, though the extremity of it seemed all the more evident in their presence. </p><p>It was a slow crawl from there to where they were now. William became paranoid, always keeping tabs on Levi, asking him where he went and for how long. He would call or text Levi all hours of the day, even while he was at work, keeping detailed accounts of his credit cards and movements. It wasn’t even that Levi did much, honestly - he would visit the grocery store, go to the bookstore, stop and get a massage or haircut, all normal things. He tried explaining that to William, asking how could he be jealous when he didn’t even have friends? Where would he go? What would he do?</p><p>Unfortunately, the passage of time did little to curb the side-effects of Levi’s friendship with Jean, and his continued innocence only seemed to make matters worse. It was as though William wouldn’t be satisfied until he caught his husband in some sort of adulterous act. It never happened, because Levi never even<em> thought </em>about cheating, not even once, and William’s paranoia increased. </p><p>As this routine carried on, Levi felt himself changing because of it. He wanted to stay spunky and plucky and mouthy because that’s who he was. He oozed sarcasm and dark humor and even dead-panned puns from time-to-time. But William’s magnifying glass altered his personality; he changed to fit his husband’s mold, to appease him, to be the type of man who obeyed, the type of man who didn’t draw suspicions from his life partner. Like it or not, that’s who Levi was now, clinging to the last shred of who he once was, willing to give it just one more try to find his old self, and his old marriage.</p><p>And it all began with the taste of freedom.</p><p>William rose from their king-sized, four-poster bed, releasing a tired and heavy groan. “I’m going to go shower, Levi. Perhaps you should clean up this mess.” It sounded like a suggestion, but Levi knew better - it was an order.</p><p>Levi watched as his husband, naked, his stomach still covered with semen, began to cross the bedroom toward their ensuite bathroom. </p><p>“Uh, William?” he asked carefully, voice sounding reminiscent of a gunshot in the otherwise quiet room. Their master suite was exceptionally large, featuring two walk-in closets, an oversized boudoir, and a flat-screen television mounted across from their massive bed. It was late afternoon, and Levi would be due to start cooking soon. But he had to ask while the courage was still there, while William’s post-coital bliss was still fresh in his extremities. </p><p>“What is it?” his husband called over his shoulder, unwilling to completely turn around and face the brunette in the bed. Levi pulled up their Egyptian cotton sheets over his own body, suddenly self-conscious of his own nudity, despite how absurd that seemed. </p><p>“Did Pixis talk to you about Kat?” he asked, doing his best to keep any nervousness out of his voice.</p><p>“What about Kat?”</p><p>Levi swallowed thickly, pushing down the anxious bile in his throat. “About her taking classes?”</p><p>William sighed and turned back around, propping his shoulder against the entryway to the master bath. He folded his long arms across his chest. “What is it that you want, Levi? Just come out and ask.”</p><p>“Can I take that pottery class?” Levi blurted. “I think it would be nice for me to get out of the house for a bit and--”</p><p>“And make friends?” the older man asked, cocking a heavy eyebrow high above his eyes, expression bemused. “Do you think anyone wants to befriend you, Levi?”</p><p>Levi shook his head. “No, of course not. I just want to try something new. I feel like I don’t bring enough to the table to talk about when I go to company parties with you. I just think if I could get out a few days a week, that I might be a little more productive while I’m at home.” He explained this all in a swift exhale, terror clawing at his chest. </p><p>William stared at him, wheels clearly turning in his head. He seemed to be mulling it over, which was a good sign. Usually, if William planned on declining his request, he would outright say ‘no’. “You can do it,” he started after a long pause, eyeing Levi closely, “with an escort.”</p><p>The condition did nothing to steal the joy from his heart. He felt so happy he could cry, but he knew better than to go overboard with emotion. “Really?” he asked, wanting to ensure his husband wasn’t just playing a cruel joke.</p><p>“Eren will drive you to and from class. And I still expect you home with dinner on the table regardless, no exceptions.” </p><p>“Yes, of course!” Eren was William’s intern, a 22-year-old in his senior year at the local university. He was studying business admin and he hoped to snag a permanent, well-paid position at Stohess Pharmaceuticals by the end of his ‘slave labor’ (in reality, he was actually well paid, especially for an intern). Though instead of taking part in massive business meetings and drug launching committees, he played the part of William’s personal errand boy, which often included driving Levi around. The younger husband wasn’t allowed to drive himself - his name wasn’t on the titles for any of the five cars in their massive garage. Also, William falsely reported to the doctor that Levi had suffered seizures in the past, which wasn’t true at all. This resulted in his license being medically revoked. The doctor didn’t even ask Levi if that was true, only nodded and followed William’s lead.</p><p>“He will keep an eye on you, Levi, so don’t get too excited.” A beat passed. “And if I decide it’s a distraction for you, I will call it off.”</p><p>“Yes, of course, sir.”</p><p>William only smirked before turning on his heel and shutting the bathroom door behind him.</p><p>Levi stood up and began changing the bedsheets with a renewed vigor in his bones. He knew his husband's kindness would likely come with a price, and he might have some debt to pay later, but he did his best to push those intrusive thoughts down. He couldn't worry about that now. Tomorrow, he would sign up online for the class, and this time next week, he would have a long overdue taste of freedom.</p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“Nan, that was exquisite,” Erwin gushed, watching as the petite blonde collected his plate. </p><p>“It was nothing,” she smiled softly, waving her free hand dismissively. “You’ve just been single too long and eating all those instant meals, that’s why you think I can cook.”</p><p>“You <em> are </em>a hell of a cook, sweetheart,” Mike protested from his seat at the head of the long dining table. Their house was older, a traditional, New England-style home, with original hardwood floors and stunning archways leading from room to room. It had four bedrooms, one of which was done up for a nursery, should it happen for the married couple. Erwin knew they had been trying for some time, though unfortunately, to no avail. Perhaps soon their dreams would be fulfilled, or at least he hoped. If anyone deserved to be parents, it was the loving and dedicated Mike and Nanaba. </p><p>“Thank you,” she said sweetly using that quiet, demure tone she was famous for.</p><p>“You’re welcome,” Mike gave a quick wink and swift pat to her round bottom, earning him a flirtatious giggle and an eye roll. She shook her head and retreated toward the kitchen, presumably to start the dishes.</p><p>“Are you guys still trying?” Erwin asked, taking a long sip of his ice water. </p><p>Mike sighed and leaned back in his dining chair, scrubbing his hands over his face. He blinked tiredly, clearly thinking that question over. “We still want a baby…” he started carefully, “but I’m afraid I might be shooting blanks.”</p><p>“Oh?” Erwin asked. He tried not to sound shocked, but he couldn’t help it. Mike was a forward man as well as being extremely prideful. It was difficult for him to admit fault in almost anything, at least at first. If there was any truth to it, Erwin could only imagine how much that statement was weighing on him.</p><p>“Mmm,” he hummed disapprovingly, staring down at his glass of iced tea. Erwin was willing to bet money that Mike wished it was a beer, though Nanaba made it clear that whenever the blonde potter came to visit, they would honor his recovery and ensure it was a ‘dry’ household. “I gotta go back to the doctor’s next week and let them run some more tests.”</p><p>“Is Nana going with you?”</p><p>Mike brought his gaze to the doorway, as if on sentry from his wife. Erwin could hear her faint humming coming from the kitchen, along with the incessant running of water. Light green eyes flitted back to his best friend, an unreadable expression on his face. “I don’t want her to,” he admitted, voice low, the man clearly humbled. </p><p>“Is there a reason for that?” he asked curiously. </p><p>Mike shook his head again, slightly, softly, attention focused on his beverage. “I’m… embarrassed.”</p><p>“To get prodded?”</p><p>Mike clicked his tongue and finally made full eye contact. He looked different, then, sitting there. He appeared so much smaller, younger, more vulnerable than he ever had before. He wasn’t the grown 34-year-old man who stood every bit of 6 foot 6. Instead, he appeared more like that 14-year-old boy, that freshman who followed Erwin around, hot on his heels at high school, bugging the blonde Junior non-stop with questions. They both played basketball and ran track, and he always looked up to Erwin. But as they aged and grew and went to college and then the police academy together, it was Erwin who admired Mike instead. He was brave and sharp, with great instincts and the invaluable ability to read people.</p><p>“I’m afraid I’m broken,” he admitted solemnly. </p><p>Erwin reeled back then, eyes wide. “Why would you be broken?” he asked earnestly, confused.</p><p>“If a man can’t get his wife pregnant, is he really a man?” He phrased it like a riddle, or possibly a rhetorical question. Either way, he clearly wasn’t expecting an answer from Erwin - it was pretty obvious his mind was already made up. </p><p>“Babe, should I cut up this cheesecake?” Nanaba called, popping her head around the corner. She grinned softly, and Mike turned his face away.</p><p>“I’m not babe, but I’d love some dessert,” Erwin answered, covering for Mike in his emotional state.</p><p>“You got it!” she beamed brightly before turning back toward the kitchen.</p><p>Erwin didn’t say anything else, just gave his friend a firm, comforting squeeze to his broad shoulder. Mike didn’t speak either, but the glassy quality of his eyes hinted at his gratitude.</p><p>*</p><p>Finally, it was time for the first class of the year. He had several people purchase the class as Christmas gifts for their parents or partners, as well as some internet sign-ups. He hadn’t taught a course since November, teaching taking a backburner as the holidays picked up. He focused instead on his own work, including some custom pieces he did as gifts or on commissions. Teaching was fun, though it could also be time-consuming and sometimes rather frustrating. But still, it was rewarding and did give him the human contact he sorely missed. He was a social creature, talkative and always willing to listen. He liked making the connections with students, and watching them flourish or even find peace with their failure, should they be unable to catch on.</p><p>The afternoon class was taught on Fridays, and it started promptly at 3 p.m. Judging by the names on the roster, it appeared to be mostly women, which was normal. He often saw his tables occupied with bored, middle-aged housewives, many of whom openly admitting they just signed up for the course after seeing Erwin’s photo on the website. Because of this, he made a habit of wearing his old wedding ring to class - it didn’t mean anything to him, anyway, he just wanted to avoid awkward encounters and requests for dates. Erwin knew he was a good-looking man, and he worked hard to stay in peak physical shape, a habit that was hard to shake after so many years in law enforcement. However, the offers meant nothing to him - just because he was divorced didn’t mean he was ready to hop into something new, and he certainly had zero interest in being involved in a paramour.</p><p>The first class was always easy, as the students didn’t even get their hands dirty. They usually made introductions and afterward, Erwin talked about the curriculum plan, going over ground rules, and introductory terminology. He then showed the class some of his basic pieces, giving students an idea of what they would be making throughout the 10 week course. If they wanted to back out after the first class, they could, and even get a refund. Most people stayed, which was nice - he did have a business to run, after all.</p><p>The bell above the door jingled, and Erwin looked up. He smiled, greeting the first student. “Welcome to ‘Get Fired’,” he called. Just as suspected, a middle-aged woman with red, curly hair entered the shop. She was dressed in designer jeans, a faux fur coat pulled taut around her slender frame.</p><p>“I’m here for the class?” she asked, voice almost unsure.</p><p>“Glad you’re here! There is a sign-in sheet at the front and then have a seat anywhere. It’s right through there,” he explained, pointing toward the propped door just to the right of the front counter.</p><p>“Thank you,” she said, offering a sweet smile, following his instructions, and making her way toward the classroom. </p><p>Over the next several minutes, quite a few more students piled in, all women of the same demographic. As the clock ticked closer to three, Erwin checked his watch. There was only one name left on his list, the other seven having already arrived. And based on the name, it was a man. Perhaps a college student? He mused. Or maybe an older gentleman looking to fill his time? </p><p>At that moment, the bell above jingled once more, Erwin bringing his gaze to the front of the shop. A petite, well-dressed man stepped slowly through the threshold. He removed his Coach sunglasses, placing them into his silky, black hair. He glanced around the storefront for a moment before allowing his breathtaking, obsidian eyes to fall on Erwin. “Is this the pottery class?” he asked, voice quiet but still masculine and strong.</p><p>Erwin felt his heart rate spike and he pressed a firm hand into the counter. “It is,” was all he could think to reply.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey there! I know this chapter was Erwin heavy, and I did set up some other moving parts, but I hope you liked it anyway. Again, a big shout-out to my friend Meaka for her help with the medical stuff as well as the name of Erwin's shop lolol. I got a good kick out of it!! I hope you giggled, too!  We got a lot of background info on our two best boys, and now, they've finally met! *screams in joy* Is that a ship setting sail? I think it is!</p><p>Leave me a comment and let me know what you thought! So many of you have left kudos and said some really kind things, and I am so grateful! See you next time! :)</p><p>Also, happy (early) birthday to Erwin! We pledge our hearts to you, Commander 😍</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Serendipity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi friends! First of all, sorry for the slow update here. I am anime only and I read a season 4 spoiler that left me feeling down, and I got a bit detached. However, I am back and glad to bring you an update! Thank you so much for all the kind comments and kudos you have left! I apologize for the brevity of this chapter, but I hope to make it up to you in future ones.</p><p>QUICK NOTE: When reading this chapter, there is an OC named 'Anne'. This is *NOT* Annie Leonhardt, as I'm sure you'll gather by the character's descriptor. </p><p>TW: A derogatory term for a mentally-handicapped person is used in this chapter. I hate the word, too, but William doesn't abide by the same moral, ethical, and social standards of good people.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Mr. Van Buren doesn’t like it when you smoke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Levi didn’t even bother to raise his eyes to meet the gaze of the speaker. Instead, he let the long drag burn through his throat, the thin cigarette balanced between nimble, nervous fingers. He closed his eyes and exhaled, a white cloud of smoke billowing from between his pink lips, performing dizzying pirouettes as it rose toward the bleak, late afternoon sky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air was cold, winter clinging to the concrete of the sidewalks, the brick of the old buildings, the very bones in his body. He pulled his coat a bit tighter. The day was overcast, but that didn’t keep Levi from donning his favorite pair of designer sunglasses - he liked hiding behind them, keeping his true thoughts sealed behind their dark lenses. And this </span>
  <em>
    <span>boy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, in Levi’s humble opinion, had no business chauffeuring him around, nor commenting on what his own husband does or doesn’t like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then don’t tell </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mr. Van Buren</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Levi deadpanned, repeating the title as if that weren’t his own name, too. William and Levi Van Buren. The Van </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> Burens of Boston. William came from old money and he was a Harvard legacy graduate, a philanthropist, a socialite, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>pioneer</span>
  </em>
  <span>, they had dubbed him, even going as far as to use the word ‘genius’ from time to time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Levi used to believe those things about his husband, too. Once upon a time, he bought it all, hook, line, and sinker. William was talented at being two people at once. The world saw him as the pharmaceutical giant who decreased the industry cost of insulin for middle and lower class families in the name of his beloved, diabetic husband, only to go home and give Levi a black eye for speaking out of turn in front of a distinguished guest they had sat with at dinner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my job to--” Eren began, but allowed his words to fall off once Levi snubbed his cigarette out against the wall behind him. The green-eyed boy sighed before bending over to pick up the used orange filter from the ground where Levi had just tossed it. “You know I have to report to Mr. Van Buren.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Mr. Van Buren, too,” Levi countered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren gave an eye roll. “My </span>
  <em>
    <span>boss,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mr. Van Buren.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Levi flicked him square in the forehead before taking a step closer to the shop front. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” And before Eren could open his mouth to protest, Levi placed a gloved hand on the shop’s glass front door. “See you at 6:30, kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Levi didn’t have to see Eren to know the kid was pouting, but he paid no mind. He took a step inside the shop and a puff of warm air greeted him, along with the smell of something earthy. He pushed his sunglasses up to his hairline and took a quick glimpse around. It seemed like a normal place, stocked with rather mature, impressive pieces at first glance, despite the cutesy pun the shop had for a name. Levi allowed his eyes to fall forward, and it took every bit of will power to keep his breath from hitching in his lungs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before him stood a tall Adonis of a man, with golden blonde hair perfectly coiffed away from his forehead, with bright, azure eyes that reminded Levi so much of the stark, mysterious blue waters of the Atlantic. They were framed by two thick, manicured eyebrows just a few shades darker than his sun-kissed hair. Everything about him was strong: his jaw, his cheekbones, his aquiline nose, reminiscent of the Greek gods detailed in mythology. He wore blue jeans and a maroon sweater, though his outfit was partially covered by a green smock, the accessory stained with dye and dried mud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Levi swallowed thickly: he had never seen someone so stunning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this the pottery class?” he asked dumbly, kicking himself for his commentary. Before he could cap the criticism, he couldn’t help but think this was the exact reason that William did most of the talking. Stupid questions were punishable, and Levi was just grateful his husband wasn’t around to catch his folly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man leaned against the counter that housed the register, long, thick fingers curling around the lip of the dark, marble top. “It is,” he replied, his voice deep and rich, heavy and warm. Those gorgeous eyes shined with something bright, as if they were coming to life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I’m in the right place.” Levi took a step forward and removed his gloves, placing them in the pocket of his pea coat. “My name is Levi Ackerman, I signed up online.” It felt strange using his maiden name again, but it was a must in order to fly under the radar. Anyone could Google ‘Levi Van Buren’ and find article after article on the whole Van Buren clan. Levi preferred the anonymity of Ackerman because no one felt intimidated by it. But also, he could behave as himself again and there wasn’t a soul who would care, apart from William. Who was Levi Ackerman in the grand scheme of things? Just a regular person, a nobody, a forgettable presence, and that’s how he preferred it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde extended a hand paired with a friendly, yet charming smile as he came around the counter. He was tall, well built under that sweater, no doubt, given how his biceps seemed to place a strain on the synthetic material. “My name is Erwin Smith. I’m the instructor, it’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Ackerman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just Levi is fine,” he insisted, meeting the instructor’s, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Erwin’s</span>
  </em>
  <span>, handshake, the much larger appendage completely enveloping Levi’s. He had a firm grasp and calloused hands, Levi surmised that was caused by using the pottery wheel so much. But still, there was a gentleness to it, a tender warmth that the shorter man wasn’t expecting. Conflicted, he wanted to lean into the touch, the softness of the gesture so unraveling, while at the same time, he wanted to snatch his hand away, as if it burned, as to remind himself that he didn’t deserve such acts of kindness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Levi.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The way the tall man spoke his name sent a shiver masquerading down his spine, causing the fine, dark hairs on his neck to stand up. Oh no, this wasn’t good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry I’m late!” exclaimed a dark-haired young woman as she threw open the front door, bringing with her a blustery wind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sasha, you’re right on time,” Erwin insisted, seeming unphased by the young woman’s boisterous nature. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The train was delayed and I didn’t get out of class on time because my professor would not just shut his </span>
  <em>
    <span>yap</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” She gave a melodramatic roll of her amber eyes as she strolled through the shop front, flecks of snow clinging to her chocolate locks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's fine, Sasha, please,” Erwin urged once again, a sweet smile splitting his handsome face in two. “Why don’t you take a moment to get settled and put your things away? Class will start in just a few minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha, apparently, nodded enthusiastically. “Do you have cappuccino pods for your Keurig?” she asked, raising her eyebrows in interest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, in the drawer beside the sink.” At that comment, the young woman smiled brightly before disappearing through the door fixed directly behind the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erwin gave an exasperated sigh and a light laugh. “I apologize for her lack of professionalism. She’s my part-time help that mans the counter while I teach,” he explained with a fond glint in his eye. “She is a bit of a scatterbrain, but she’s got a great eye for pottery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Levi wasn’t sure what to say. This was the most social interaction with a stranger that he had had outside of William’s watchful eye in a long time. Normally, the older of the two husbands did all the speaking, or would give Levi pre-scripted prompts ahead of time, allowing him to practice the things he would say. They didn’t always match his personality, but they weren’t meant to. William expected a certain quality of conversation that Levi knew he just couldn’t provide. He was too crass, too blunt, and with a staunch affinity for curse words, language William deemed much too foul for use in front of proper company. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, uhm,” he stuttered, feeling suddenly embarrassed for his lack of speech. Perhaps it was William’s words last night prior to going to bed that was settling in his skull, weighing him down, curbing the confidence he had when he first was given permission to sign up for the class. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t think you can handle taking a class unattended,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” William had told him from his perch at the end of the bed where he sat, untying one of Levi’s ankles from the leather restraints. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I think you’re going to make a fool of yourself. And everyone in that room, including your teacher, will see just how stupid you are. Do you like proving people right time and time again, Levi? Does that make you feel good?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pardon me, I tend to ramble.” The graciousness of Erwin’s tone hit Levi in the most reassuring of ways, soothing the sting of William’s harsh words, allowing them to slip from the brunette’s brain like fine sand through splayed fingers. “If you step right through that door, take a seat anywhere there is a handout.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling a touch of heat warm his face, Levi gave a quick nod and disappeared through the proffered door. It had been temporarily propped open, a welcome greeting to the new students. Crossing the threshold, Levi could see that the class was already relatively full and that it consisted entirely of women. There were four rows of tables, and two seats at each table. That meant seven other students in total. It wasn’t a large class, and for that, Levi felt grateful. He could handle at least that much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, a seat was free in the back, allowing the brunette to creep along the outer isle. He removed his peacoat and placed it on the back of his chair. Glancing down at his wedding ring, the glare of his golden band forced him to swallow thickly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Your hands might get messy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the thought lodged into his frontal lobe, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you should take it off so as to not ruin your ring. That would upset William. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Guilt clawed up his stomach and chest as he removed it, nervously glancing around as if anyone in the room was paying an ounce of attention to him. No one was, but for some reason, that fact did little to quell the weight of his indiscretion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever taken a pottery class before?” The question caught Levi off guard as he lowered himself into his chair. It was his deskmate, a cheerful, bright-eyed woman with auburn hair and a slender build. She looked to be about in her early thirties, but knowing the bored housewife crowd, she could have easily been older, and her youthful looks were just a result of expensive injections and a renowned personal trainer. She was so pretty and it was just a bit intimidating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again a bit nervous at the surmounting number of social interactions, Levi only anxiously cleared his throat, turning his gaze to the printout in front of him. “Uh, no,” he answered softly, doing his best to ignore the petite woman’s gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My name is Anne,” she answered with a friendly smile. “This is my first time, too. My guess is that I’m going to be shit at it, but Jay insists that I spend my time doing something fun.” She twirled a stand of thick auburn hair around a slender finger absentmindedly, as if she was contemplating something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obsidian gray eyes blinked at that comment, clearly taken a little aback. “You signed up even knowing that you’d be bad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The red-headed woman gave a small laugh, the sound warm like honey in hot tea. “Well sure, why not? Part of the fun is being bad.” She gave a quick glance around, eyeing the other females in the classroom. “Besides,” she said, voice low, “the instructor is absolutely gorgeous. I know that’s why most of them signed up. They all think they have a shot, but they don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Levi crinkled his brows at that. “What makes you say that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But before his deskmate could answer, the man in question himself strolled into the room, toeing the door stopper and letting the heavy oak fall to a close. “Good afternoon, class,” he greeted his pupils as he made his way toward the front. Levi had to physically remind himself to breathe when he realized just how tightly formed the instructor’s jeans were, clinging to thick legs and a solid ass like a second skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Keep your shit together, you pervert! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Levi scolded himself in his head, though was unwilling to remove his eyes from the glorious backside. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You are fucking married. And even if you weren’t, you wouldn’t have a shot anyway.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome to my introductory pottery course. My name is Erwin Smith.” By that point, he had reached the front, a potter’s wheel situated just to his right. “And I am really looking forward to having each of you in class.” He was facing his students now, a broad smile plastered across his disgustingly handsome face, blue eyes clearly impassioned. It was strange to see someone doing something they loved - Levi couldn’t remember the last time he witnessed something like that. William certainly didn’t love his job, and neither did any of his asshole colleagues, given their detached demeanor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, before we begin…” his deep voice carried on, directing his class to go ahead and open their packets. Dumbly, Levi could only follow instructions, turning page after page of a well-organized syllabus, orated by Erwin, the big blonde including wit and puns as he went. The women in the class giggled, making cliched, melodramatic googly eyes at every word the muscular man spoke. Levi did his best to pay attention to the material presented - what they needed, what the expectations were, the pacing for the lessons. From the gist of it, day one would be all about the syllabus, asking and answering questions, and getting to know fellow classmates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he even realized it, half an hour had gone by, and Erwin was moving on to just that: introductions. “Alright, you know a bit about me, but let’s take a moment to get to know each other. Please tell us your name, why you signed up, and what you’re most looking forward to creating. Who would like to start?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Front and center, a busty brunette woman raised her hand, her enthusiasm not the least bit contagious, at least as far Levi was concerned. He didn’t care to remember her name, but she took her sweet time prattling on, clearly over the moon that the handsome instructor was paying her attention. Politely, he moved her along, snaking down the tables, each student offering their name and taking a quick moment to answer Erwin’s prompt. Finally, that left the last table: he and Anne.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, my name is Anne. I signed up for this course because I wanted to spend a little more time out of the house, and I am really looking forward to making a vase that I can put real flowers in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erwin gave a genuine smile, seemingly happy that he had received such a straight-forward, non-convoluted answer. “I hope we can make several vases,” he explained. “It’s nice to have you in class, Anne.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All eyes moved to Levi and he felt his face heat up at the focused attention. Oh no, now was his turn to speak and he couldn’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>tell his name and answer the basic questions. He scolded himself- he should have spent the time that others were talking rehearsing what he’d say, and now it was too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Best for last.” If not for the coy wink that punctuated that sentence, Levi would have thought he imagined those words entirely. His brain buzzed, and he fluttered his lashes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My name is Levi,”  he started, hoping he didn’t sound too anxious. “And I signed up for this class in hopes to learn a new skill.” Whew, another answer down, just one more. “And I’m not sure what I want to make the most, but I just look forward to doing something with my hands.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Other than cleaning my house and cooking for my husband, that is</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Clearly, he didn’t state that part aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Levi,” the blonde repeated, the four letters sounding so perfect falling from those full lips, “it’s nice to have you here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few of the women clicked their tongues, but before anyone could really comment, Erwin was on to the next task, truly a professional through and through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, as I mentioned a little bit, I minored in art history in college and I have always had a deep love for ceramics. I enjoy creating dinnerware and vases and such, but I do occasionally enjoy making more abstract sculptures. Our end goal this class is to make several practical pieces either worth gifting or selling, artist’s choice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled again, making a move to sit on the tall stool behind him. He had been standing the whole time up to that point, a perfect picture of refinement and elegance, all encaptured into such a formidable and masculine frame. He folded his arms loosely against his chest and he spoke once more. “In late spring, there is a city art show for amateur artists. If someone, or multiple someones, create pieces that I deem worthy of showcasing, well,” he gave another boyish grin, “that would really be something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand shot up in the air and Levi’s eyes widened at the realization that it was Anne’s. “Yes?” Erwin asked, pointing in his deskmate’s direction. “Did you have a question?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I was just wondering if our first assignment was going to be a coil pot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erwin gave a firm nod. “Yes, that is correct.” And when Anne giggled, the instructor raised one of his thick, iconic eyebrows in a questioning manner. “Does that not sound like fun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne furiously shook her head. “The opposite, actually. I’m just a bit worried mine is going to look like a pile of shit.” She held up her hand to delay Erwin’s rebuttal. “No, I mean like, it’s going to actually look like dog crap, not even the figurative kind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The women in the class gave a collective, disgusted gasp at that, clearly offended by the bold woman’s crass choice of words. Levi, however, found himself snickering and doing a piss poor job of hiding it. It was hilarious, and he would be damned if he missed out on laughing at his first toilet joke in years. William wasn’t here to punish him or talk down on him for engaging in such low-brow humor and he was going to make the most of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Much to Levi’s pleasure, Erwin gave a low but genuine chuckle, shaking his head a little. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first to create such an abomination, and I would gather that you won’t be the last,” he assured sweetly. At least it sounded sweet, in Levi’s opinion. The very timbre of the man’s voice was so different from William’s, the very essence of cordiality and kind-heartedness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any other questions?” he asked and hands began to rise in the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One by one, the blonde instructor answered inquiries of all types: questions about something on the syllabus, what they needed to bring next time, if they should wear grungier clothes. Never once did he seem off-put by the class’s exuberance or in some cases, even overly-flirtatious nature. He held onto his charm and charisma through it all. It astounded Levi that someone could be so sincere and professional, yet just a bit magnetic and boyish. It was refreshing to say the least. Maybe social interactions wouldn’t be so horrendous and terrifying if they were all this pleasant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s the time,” Erwin concluded with a quick glance at his wristwatch. He stood off the chair and flashed one last good-natured smile. “If for whatever reason you have decided that this course isn’t a good fit for you moving forward, please speak with Sasha at the front counter. Otherwise, I hope to see you next week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a cacophony of pushed chairs and mindless chatter, the other students grabbed their coats and purses and pushed toward the door. Levi caught phrases here and there, ‘what a hottie’ or ‘refund? I just paid for the show’. He would internally scold them for sexualizing their teacher if wasn’t already guilty of the action himself. He knew he didn’t have a leg to stand on in that regard. Besides, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>married</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Granted, not happily, but that made no difference to Levi. His whole purpose in being here was to find a spark of joy, something, anything, no matter how small or fragile, to carry in heart; a guiding light through the stifling darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you next time!” Anne waved cheerfully, gesturing goodbye to the short brunette. Levi lifted a hand in acknowledgment but didn’t say anything else, remaining seated at his table. He wanted to wait for the others to leave so as to not feel so claustrophobic in the main part of the store where the women were surely lingering. Mindlessly, he skimmed back through the syllabus. He had sketched a few doodles in the corner of one of the pages. William typically frowned upon that, citing is as menial and childish. Thankfully, though, he wasn’t around - this was Levi’s very own sheet of paper, and he would doodle as much as he pleased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you enjoy your first course?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Levi hadn’t even realized that Erwin had approached him, standing in front of Levi’s table, large hands casually crossed and folded in front of that sullied green smock. Levi bit his lip and did his best to focus, blinking heavily at the anxiousness of it all. His husband's cruel words returned to his brain, as if holding up a loudspeaker. They had that effect- like a poisonous miasma. Every time Levi thought he had shaken it, it returned, thicker and more brutal than before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was, uh, cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You stupid fucking piece of shit that’s all you could think to say</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Levi had never been very outgoing to begin with, though William had certainly beaten him down all the more viciously over the years, reducing him to a stuttering mess. Hot tears pricked at the back of his eyes, suddenly feeling so foolish for even coming. Why did he think this was a good idea? He had no script or prompts, and it made him feel sick as he came to the realization that he was completely dependent on them now. This whole endeavor was a mess, how could he make such an idiot of himself on the first day? Yes, Erwin was nice, but he was just being courteous and professional. After all, Levi was a paying customer and student. This was a forced interaction. Outside of this setting and encounter, Erwin would never afford him a single glance. And why should he? Levi was nothing more than a pathetic, shriveling husk of a man, completely undeserving of positive interactions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His vision began to blur and he clutched onto the lip of the table. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, no, no.</span>
  </em>
  <span> This wasn’t an anxiety attack. The telltale shake of his hands began and his chest tightened. </span>
  <em>
    <span>My blood sugar is low.</span>
  </em>
  <span> When was the last time he had eaten? At lunchtime, William had video-called Levi while the former enjoyed a steak catered directly to his office, only capable of giving even more condescending words. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Remember, my sweet Levi, that Eren is watching you, and he </span>
  </em>
  <span>will </span>
  <em>
    <span>report any of your indiscretions. Try not to sound completely retarded when someone speaks to you out in public.’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>The interaction had left him such an anxious mess that he must have incidentally skipped lunch. And now, he needed to hurry to the SUV if he was going to stand a snowball’s chance in hell at making it home in time to start supper and have it on the table in time for William’s prompt arrival. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” Erwin was crouched beside him now, one of those large, beautiful hands on Levi’s pale and trembling wrist. His head spun at the connection, but he lacked the strength to pull away. Glancing up and meeting those oceanic eyes, the very color of them making Levi feel as though he were shipwrecked, lost at sea. It was a beautiful, floating feeling, until he altogether lost his balance while hazardously attempting to stand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah!” Erwin called, shooting up to catch the tiny man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>///</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He weighed practically nothing, like carrying a loaf of bread or perhaps a sheet of paper. The student was certainly the color of parchment, his skin turning pallid. “Here, please sit back down. Do you need some water?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erwin wasn’t a rookie. Granted he may have been a police officer instead of a paramedic, but that didn’t mean he was ill-equipped to offer basic medical assistance. Racking his brain, Erwin filtered through what could possibly be happening. Was he anemic? Or was he having a panic attack? Did he perhaps get overly hot sitting beneath the register for the furnace?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gorgeous brunette creature weakly shook his head and made a feeble attempt to stand. “I need to go,” were the words he spoke, but his body seemed to communicate something much different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sasha!” Erwin called over his shoulder, never peeling his eyes off of the ailing man in his presence. His assistant immediately bolted to the classroom door upon hearing her name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bring me a water bottle and whatever candy bar you have stashed at the front--” and before Sasha could speak, Erwin added, “--don’t deny that it’s there and don’t argue with me. I will buy you ten to replace it, just put a little pep in your step.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of retreating footsteps was the only indication that Sasha had abided by his instruction. Levi, the man was named, folded over on himself, sweat clinging to his dark undercut. He was just a tiny creature, with thin wrists and a petite build. “Are you alright?” Erwin repeated his question, hoping his tone was soothing rather than commanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I--” he began, but he was saved from having to answer when the receptionist returned to the classroom, hurrying over with a Twix and water bottle in tow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here you go,” she said as she tore the gold wrapper, handing it over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking hesitant, the dark-haired man reached out and accepted it, taking off a quick bite. He chewed quickly, and then took another bite, hurriedly eating it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take a sip,” Erwin encouraged, opening the bottle and sliding it over. With a nod of gratitude, Levi obliged. It took him but a moment of alternating between taking fast bites and rapid drinks and the candy bar was gone. Though he didn’t look completely better, some of his color had returned and his breathing had stabilized. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you good, dude?” Sasha asked from over Erwin’s broad shoulder, earning the young woman a quick glare. The receptionist’s face softened into an apologetic look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, uh, need to get going.” His words sounded heavy, as if he were speaking with a swollen tongue. Levi lifted his dark eyes and made a move to stand. Acting as the gentleman he was raised to be, Erwin extended his arm, offering it as a means for an anchor. Much to his surprise (and pleasure), the shorter man latched onto it, allowing himself to be assisted. It was an unexpected, and most welcomed, move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to keep sitting for a bit?” Erwin was lying to himself when he said he made that offer with wholly well-meaning intentions. Because the reality of it was that he felt very drawn to this beautiful brunette. And while their interactions had been exceptionally limited, Erwin knew a good person when he saw one. Perhaps it was an ability he picked up on his time on the force, or maybe even an innate skill he had possessed since childhood. Whatever the reasoning, he knew he didn’t want Levi to leave. “We are in no hurry to close the shop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Levi said dismissively, pulling his arm free of Erwin’s tender, supportive grasp. “But I need to go. I’m sorry.” As he apologized, he pulled on his dark peacoat, obsidian eyes turned toward the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t apologize, please, it’s quite alright.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man’s pretty lips pressed into a thin line and his high cheekbones found just the slightest smattering of color, a pale pink that complimented his stark, porcelain skin. “See you next week,” he stated flatly, making his way toward the main part of the store. Once he disappeared through the threshold of the classroom, it took just a few seconds more for the jingle of the front door to chime, the sound pouring mild disappointment into Erwin’s gut. The gorgeous creature was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha tilted her head to the side, moving to stand at her tall boss’s side. “What a weird little guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The comment caused Erwin to scoff, glad for the young assistant’s humor. “Says the woman dating Connie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Sasha’s turn to giggle. “You got me there, boss.” Her pretty eyes squinted when she chuckled. “Speaking of Connie, I’m gonna go count down the register so I can be on time for our date!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waving Sasha on, the brunette made her way toward the front. Once he was fully alone, he exhaled a heavy breath, pressing a large hand to his forehead, leaning against the table Levi had just promptly abandoned. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Who was that man? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He couldn’t help but ask himself, unable to ignore the hammering in his chest and the flutter in his stomach. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you again for reading!! If you're in the States, Happy Thanksgiving! Know that I am thankful for my readers, and I know this story is dark, but I hope you enjoyed this update all the same.</p><p>Please stay safe and well! See you next update! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Burns</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Did I neglect this fandom for like, a month? Yep.<br/>Am I remorseful about that? Also yep.<br/>Did I sit down and write this whole chapter in an afternoon? Still yep.<br/>Is this chapter happy? Nope.</p><p>In all seriousness, please note the following CW and TW - this chapter contains explicit descriptions of domestic violence, PTSD, disassociation, and panic attacks.  </p><p>See you at the bottom for more notes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Grilled lemon garlic salmon with a homemade butter sauce, roasted carrots, served with freshly baked rolls, and William’s favorite riesling white wine. It was beautiful, elegantly plated, and ready to be served. And to top it off, it was done in time for his husband to walk through the door, the chime from their home security system panel sounded to indicate that the garage door was opening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Levi was very proud of himself, despite getting hypo at the end of class. Not only had he gone to the course and interacted with his seatmate, he had a somewhat nice time, even though his nerves left him feeling on edge. Still, there was a giddiness in his chest - he felt… </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. In the car ride, he hadn’t uttered a word to Eren, only let the young man drive him back to their mansion at the edge of Boston. To keep occupied, he reviewed his syllabus for class over and over, looking at the little doodles on the corners of the pages, feeling excited for what was to come.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Something good.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was amazing how wonderful freedom tasted, something he hadn’t even realized he would miss so much. To just be able to go out and make a decision for himself. It was scary, nerve-wracking, even. But it was beautiful. He absolutely couldn’t wait until next week. According to the packet, which he basically had memorized at this point, they would be actually working with clay and getting to play around. It sounded so fun. How would he sleep for a whole week knowing what was coming?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, darling!” came William’s call, his voice saccharine sweet as it lilted through the hall. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He must have had a good day, too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome home!” Levi called back, unable to keep the smile from his face. He was so grateful for today, for getting to go. It wasn’t perfect, but what was? He would do better next time, as to not embarrass himself. It had been so long since he left the house without William that he forgot to pack a snack just in case his blood sugar dropped. William always did those sorts of things for him, even choosing which food item to bring. Usually, he got to take a granola bar, or peanut butter crackers, or applesauce, whatever his husband deemed acceptable that day.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll put a granola bar in my jacket pocket for next time, just in case.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is my beautiful boy,” the older husband crooned as he entered the kitchen. He sounded so affectionate today, so warm, so much like when they were first together. And of course, he looked so sharp in his dark blue tailored suit, shiny black Hugo Boss shoes, graying hair slicked away from his ruggedly handsome face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was your day?” the short brunette asked, feeling electricity in his veins as William walked over to place a chaste kiss on his temple. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Something good happened today. He’s so happy. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was wonderful. Do you know what happened today, Levi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grabbing two forks from the drawer, he only shook his head. He busied himself grabbing a couple of cloth napkins, trying to find the decorative rings. It wasn’t really the occasion, but if it was a good day, he would go all out. Maybe they could even light the candles on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe this was the beginning of them finding happiness once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your loving husband,” he began, voice sounding much more sinister than a moment ago, causing Levi to look up at him, hands stilling on the cabinet handle, “the man who busts his ass to take such perfect care of you secured a deal with a Swedish pharmaceutical company. Isn’t that lovely?” One large hand came up to rest on Levi’s shoulder, prompting a shiver to parade down his spine. “When I’m telling you about my day, Levi, you should pay attention. Don't you think I earned at least that much for all the things I give you? All that I provide for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Horror rendered him nearly speechless. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh, shh,” he shushed, features softening in a feigned look of sympathy, but his eyes… his eyes were so dark, completely juxtaposed from his expression. The way he placed his palm on Levi’s cheek, to an onlooker, would make it seem as though he were acting loving, offering a standard gesture of affection. But to Levi, who could feel the heavy heat of it, like a brand, he knew it was a warning. That massive palm had caused him so much pain, leaving reddened marks across his face, his arms, his ass, his legs. Anywhere that William could touch, he could also break. Ingrained into his very core was the sound that William’s hand made when it connected to his flesh, the harsh ricochet of skin on skin. “What have I said about senselessly apologizing, Levi? You’re blatantly running your mouth, giving me empty promises. I always tell you that there is no greater apology than changed behavior, don’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Closing his eyes, Levi nodded, face pinched in anticipation for what was coming next. He could hardly breathe, he was so terrified. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just take it and it will be done and over with. You don’t need to drag this out</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he reminded himself. He was readying his whole body for what was to come, willing his nerve endings to dull, wishing he could just run away, be anywhere but here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why aren’t you answering me, sweet boy?” That condescending tone made his stomach churn. Suddenly, he no longer felt hungry, and the pungent scent of fish coupled with the powerful musk of William’s cologne left him feeling nauseous, as though he were just mere moments away from vomiting. The very blood in his veins felt curdled and soured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I--”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Smack!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There it was, the harsh sting on his cheek, burning him, the blow forcing his head to the right, chin practically touching his shoulder. Levi was already praying it would give way to numbness, as that was so much easier to feel than pain. The static numbness, like the black and gray of an old television turned to the wrong channel, was the only chance he had for surviving what was to come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is your wedding ring?” Before Levi could even lift his eyes and open his mouth to reply, the same burning sting joined the opposite side of his face, this time, the slap coming so hard he fell against the counter, thin ribs connecting to the blunt edge of the marble counter, stealing the air from his lungs. A haze of black crept up his field of vision as the stark pain rattled him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My ring is in my jacket pocket, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he realized with abject horror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the way home, he had been too distracted by his good mood to remember to put his fucking ring back on, flying too high while still trying to achieve homeostasis after his episode. Of course, William would notice that he forgot to put his ring back on. He always would. That ring wasn’t symbolic of a happy marriage, it was the tag that cattle wore in their ears, telling which ranch they belonged to. It was the brand for livestock, awaiting their fate at the slaughterhouse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Answer me!” William grabbed Levi by the front of his sweatshirt, hauling him off the cool tile, forcing the shorter man to look him in the eye. William’s face was beet red, anger boiling over like an unattended pot, hissing and steaming. “Where the fuck is your wedding ring?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s in my jacket pocket,” he whimpered, unsure if actual words were really coming out of his mouth or if they were just high-pitched sounds. Fear and adrenaline mixed in his bloodstream, shooting through his limbs. In fight or flight, Levi had no choice. His only chance now was just to pretend he was somewhere else, anywhere else, far away from the kitchen, from his husband, his abuser.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And why the fuck is it there?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Levi could only stare down at the white tile floor beneath them, his bare feet just inches from the pointed toe of William’s leather winged tip dress shoes. A choking sob left him as he answered, “I didn’t want to dirty it with the clay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>William clutched his chin forcefully, gripping it in between his thumb and index finger with a powerful pinch. From his hold, he had complete power over where Levi’s gaze fell,  and he made the smaller man meet his eye. “Say it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though his throat felt like it was on fire, dry and parched, he whimpered out a response, repeating his reply from a moment ago. It didn’t matter, though. It didn’t matter that the answer made sense, didn’t matter that it was logical, it didn’t matter that it was fucking truth. So long as Levi said it, it would always be wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With hands made only to destroy, William pawed at the back of the smaller man’s nape, the entirety of his palm almost completely encircling his slender neck. Grimly, Levi also realized that his spouse could snap his neck at a moment’s from where he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A part of Levi wished he would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning forward, William hissed, tone sinister and ominous, “go upstairs, and I’ll make ensure you never take your wedding ring off again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what’s more depressing, Erwin. The fact that you watch this shit or the fact that you watch it sober.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sober all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I said,” Mike laughed, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>depressing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erwin shot his best friend an exaggerated eye roll as he settled into the sofa next to him, handing over a cup of tea that Mike looked less than thrilled to receive. “The game will start in a moment, just relax.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erwin, who the fuck do you know that watches the Kardashians?” he teased. “Huh? I’ll tell ya, teenage girls. And last I checked, you are not a teenage girl.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Sunday, and since Nanaba was stuck at the hospital for an unexpected double shift, they chose to have their weekly dinner at Erwin’s. It consisted of take-out that was absolutely subpar in comparison to Nan’s cooking, and of course, the Celtics game. But instead of watching the pre-game show and highlights, Erwin opted on catching the latest episode of a reality program he didn’t completely understand as to why he watched. Maybe it was because it was mindless, or that their problems seemed so dumb. Truly, he hadn’t the faintest clue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just shut up and eat your chicken,” Erwin replied with a good-natured chuckle, elbowing his oldest friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay but I’m just gonna keep talking the whole time so I don’t have to listen to their chatter.” He shoved a bite of his chicken lo mein into his mouth and kept good on his word. “How was your first class the other night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erwin hummed, doing his best to pay attention to what Kourtney was berating Kim about and not on the fact that he had thought of one student’s face for basically four solid days in a row. He couldn’t admit to </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, couldn’t say it aloud. He was not equipped to handle feeling attracted to someone for the first time in well… probably since before he married Marie. So he instead gave Mike a generic and flat, “fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine?” The tall blonde scoffed, seemingly appalled at the response (or lack thereof). “Normally you’re beside yourself to talk about pottery and your students. Why just ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>’?” Chopsticks perfectly balanced in one hand, he gave air quotes to emphasize his point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was true, and Erwin should have known that Mike would know better. He wasn’t one to give menial responses to questions, especially not toward his oldest friend and former partner on the force. Ever since he opened the shop, pottery had brought so much light to his life, giving him a chance to find some sort of internal peace again. Of course, Mike would be perceptive enough to call him out. “It was really good. Mostly women again, except for one student. Nobody revoked their enrollment, so the class is at capacity, which is good for finances.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike hummed, though the sound was unreadable. Was it in agreement, or something else?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erwin continued. “The art show in the spring should have some good pieces in it since the class is full. I might actually have a few who can produce something worthwhile.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One male student, huh?” Erwin didn’t like that tone, and he really didn’t like how those light green eyes were touched with the makings of mischief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The broad blonde cleared his throat, taking a bite of his own beef and broccoli. “Yep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So he’s hot, I take it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doing his best to look appalled, he gave Mike a sour expression, blinking his blue eyes in surprise. “How on earth did you draw that conclusion?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need a fucking roadmap to figure out how you buried the lead and basically avoided the question altogether,” he scoffed. “So tell me about him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s there to tell?” Erwin shot back, no longer meeting Mike’s gaze. He was staring at the TV, a take-out container balanced on his lap. Maybe he was being a bit defensive, but it was silly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He is just a student, nothing more</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “He’s just a student,” he answered his own rhetorical question, audibly mirroring the thought in his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm,” Mike hummed again, though didn’t push further when he saw Erwin grab the remote and switch the game on. It was still warm-ups and two announcers were chattering idly about stats and injuries and the like. While his tall best friend seemed enthralled, Erwin only let his thoughts roll back over to Levi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was he okay? Did he get home alright? After what appeared to be a hypoglycemic episode, Erwin was truly worried for the younger man’s safety. It would be difficult to drive in that condition, especially with the way that it was snowing. Surely, he would see the man on Wednesday for class, and things would be fine. Levi probably got home okay, and there was nothing for Erwin to be worried about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bruising had subsided some, he noticed from the backseat of the Mercedes, the sleeves of his mustard-colored sweater pulled up almost to his elbow so he could inspect his wrists closely. The whole bottom half of his forearm had been black and blue, painted the color of the mid-winter sunset that was just a few hours away. Now, they were stained dark yellow and pale green, though the red from the binding ropes still stayed, his skin rubbed raw. His spouse had a habit of taking his aggression out on Levi through the act of bondage, though it was anything but safe and consensual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His wounds would heal faster, if William hadn’t hidden the first aid kit, keeping him from the ointment that would bring him relief. It was his punishment, after all, retribution for his sins, for breaking the rules, for sowing seeds of mistrust. He was the one who took his wedding ring off in the first place. How could he have been so stupid?</span>
</p><p><em><span>Stupid little slut.</span></em> <em><span>You can keep going to your little class, but it’s your funeral each time you come home and you’ve done something stupid like this. Choose wisely when you leave Levi, or are you ready to admit that it’s best just to let me keep deciding for you?</span></em></p><p>
  <span>William’s words played in his head, clinging to the forefront of his brain, unable to shake their cruelty. But Levi took it, each word, each hit, each unwanted touch to his weak and trembling body. He would do it all again, over and over, because total submission was a steep price to pay for three hours of freedom every Wednesday. He got to make one choice, and he would choose to keep going to pottery class, even if that freedom eventually killed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In bed last night, one of William’s long, toned arms stretched across Levi’s slender chest, pinning him to the mattress, holding him in place, the man possessive even in his slumber. While his husband’s snores were loud, Levi’s thoughts were louder, excitement for the coming day keeping him awake. Usually, sleep brought respite, a chance to dream up a life that didn’t include William. But since Wednesday, those dreams all included a beautiful blonde man, with broad shoulders and eyes like sapphires held to the sun. It was dangerous, Levi knew, but it wasn’t as though his husband could see into his brain. Until then, it was the one thing he gave himself, a daydream building hope, like a caged bird with clipped wings but still hoping to one day fly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now, anxiety brewed for a multitude of reasons. As excited as he was to come to class and see Erwin, and even Anne, again, he was nervous. They would work with clay, and that would logically call for him to quite literally roll up his sleeves. People were bound to see his bruises, and that was something that would undoubtedly be commented on or inquired about should they notice. He wouldn’t be able to come up with a clever enough excuse that they would buy, even after days of thinking about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s fine. Just breathe. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren’s driving was careful enough, even though his humming along to the radio was mildly annoying. In another life, he would have told the green-eyed boy to ‘shut it, brat’ and push him from the vehicle, but not here. Instead, he only gritted his teeth and tried to focus on preparing himself for the impending social interactions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And seeing Erwin again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, when Eren dropped him off out front, he did not linger to smoke a cigarette. They were running early, as traffic had been light for whatever reason or another, and he was hoping to be the first one to class today. With a dismissive wave over his shoulder and a resounding slam of the car door (which he was sure had earned him a gripe even if he couldn’t hear it), he bounded into the front door of ‘Get Fired’. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little bell above the door chimed and he felt butterflies in his chest. The class wouldn’t start for about twenty minutes, and he didn’t even care if he was early. He had waited all week to be here after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once his eyes adjusted a little to the light, he could see the tall, blonde instructor posted up at the front register, a phone pressed to his ear while he typed away on the computer. It sounded like he was discussing an order of some kind. Other than that, the store was empty of patrons. When Erwin looked up, their eyes met for the briefest moment, and Levi remembered exactly why he was so excited, so nervous, in the first place. Much to his pleasure, Erwin smiled, the grin splitting his handsome face in two. He lifted his free hand to wave, a pen clutched between his first and second fingers. As to not be further distracting, and to avoid passing out from a heart attack, Levi meandered to the far wall and began looking over some of the more intricate pieces displayed there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The font shelves were reserved for what Levi assumed was the easier product to sell, practical objects like dinnerware and pitchers and ornate vases. They would be good for gifts and daily use. However, in the back, Levi was amazed by the selection. These pieces were more abstract, more artistic, featuring sculptures that looked like roses, seashells, twisted half-moon shapes with elegant ridges. They were absolutely gorgeous, and just looking at the artwork made Levi feel something stirring in his heart. Clearly, these were crafted by Erwin, masterfully designed and executed, a chance to showcase his talents and creativity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like those particular pieces?” a masculine voice asked from over his shoulder. The unexpected noise startled him, causing him to jump. Without realizing it, his elbow caught the corner of one of the pieces, knocking it from its stand. With an anxious squeak, Levi leaned forward to catch it. Apparently, Erwin thought the same thing, and their foreheads collided in the process, leaving the artwork to crash to the floor and shatter upon contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh fuck!” Levi cursed, dropping to his knees to grab the shards of broken ceramic. “I’m so sorry!” Panic took to his chest, igniting his nervous system. Oh god, he fucked something else up. Of course, he did. He had been too excited, and just like everything else he sought to feel excitement over, he ruined it. This time, it took only an instant.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You constantly make a fool of yourself, of this household,” William reminded him between blows to his backside, the leather belt cracking against his trembling thighs, already welted and close to bleeding, “and of my good name I so lovingly gave you, Levi. It used to be endearing, then once it was even kind of humorous. But now, it’s just pathetic. Just like you.” The brutal ministrations continued, “you’re sick, and you’re useless. It would be easier to just get rid of you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>///</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Levi?” Erwin tried to keep his voice soft, as it was quite obvious this little incident clearly upset the smaller man. In fact, he was shaking and tears were taking to his eyes, but he didn’t seem present, not really in the room. Erwin had seen this before a number of times. It happened a lot at active crime scenes when a survivor was present, the victim doing their best to disassociate from what was happening around them. It was a sign of PTSD. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Levi,” he repeated, dropping to a crouch to be on the same level as the other man. Steel gray eyes that were bordering on gunmetal blue stared down at the pieces of ceramic as he began tracing over them with his fingers, shaking as he tried to pick up the shards. The words ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ painfully played over and over again on his lips like a mantra, like a litany, like a prayer. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Who is hurting you? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Levi, it’s alright,” he assured, placing a tentative hand on the smaller man’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. However, that proved to be the wrong move, as upon the contact, Levi immediately cried out, falling on his backside and covering his face with his forearm, struggling to crawl away. With that action, Erwin learned three things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first was that his suspicions were correct, and someone was definitely causing this sweet creature harm, based on his defensive stance, moving almost as though it were second nature to react and protect himself. The second was that there was bruising along with evident rope burn around his wrists, the abrasions obvious, and a textbook indicator of being bounded. And third, it was that a gold band adorned his left hand, shining under the fluorescent light of the store: Levi was married.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sasha!” Erwin called out over his shoulder, prompting his petite assistant to make her away over. She had been working in the back running the accounting report, and thankfully, none of the other students had arrived yet, meaning they would have a minimum audience for what was going to happen next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I do for ya, sir? Do you need--” but her question was cut off as she arrived at the scene. Her brown eyes widened in concern, hurriedly glancing between her boss and the crying man on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sasha, do you feel comfortable enough to cover class today? Or at least the first half. They’re just working on coil pots.” As a fine arts student herself, Erwin trusted her with this much. This was an apprenticeship, after all. It was due time for her to do more than borrow the wheel and run the cash register. Sasha nodded the affirmative, expression taking on an uncharacteristically somber quality. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is everything…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Erwin cut her off, though not to be rude, truly. He just wanted to protect Levi’s privacy and grant him a safe place to calm down. The fewer eyes, the better. Besides, it wasn’t like he had many answers to give at the moment. “He will be fine. Please sweep this up and I’ll take him upstairs to my apartment. Just give us a moment to move. And be sure to lock the door once all the students have arrived for class.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha nodded and disappeared back around the corner, headed back to the counter. Erwin turned his attention back to the man before him. “Levi, everything is fine here, but would you like to move? To go sit down?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man was still teary-eyed, breathing ragged, hands now on his knees as he hugged them toward his slender midsection. “I’ll clean it up, William. I promise I will, I--” he sobbed again, throat constricting at the weight of his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Levi, it’s alright. I’m right here,” he said softly. “It’s me, Erwin Smith, and you’re at the pottery shop. Did you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, the small man’s eyes glanced upward, seeming to come back a little to himself. They were shining with tears, wet and still beautiful; he was so gorgeous and it broke the large blonde’s heart to see him in such a state. “Erwin?” he asked, voice quiet since his throat was likely raw from the crying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t…” he started, his voice trailing off, seemingly lost for words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay, why don’t we go upstairs for a cup of tea and get you calmed down. Also,” Erwin glanced down and noticed for the first time that the tips of the brunette’s fingers were bleeding, likely having been cut by the broken pieces of pottery he attempted to collect off the floor. “I think we should treat your cuts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My… cuts?” he repeated the question, blinking slowly, as if he were coming out of a dream. Or perhaps, Erwin surmised, a nightmare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I think you cut your hand when you were trying to clean up.” In the pocket of his smock, he had a clean rag that he had planned to take with him to class. “Here, hold onto this and we can go upstairs and get you cleaned up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Upstairs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erwin nodded, rising to his feet. He was a tall man, sure, but there in the presence of the tiny creature, he felt oversized, self-conscious that he was coming across as intimidating. “My apartment is upstairs and I have a first aid kit up there. Also, I think some tea might help calm your nerves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time since the incident occurred, a sort of life touched his eyes, animating his expression only slightly. Apparently, something in that sentiment struck a chord in the best way, music to Levi’s ears. “What kind of tea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the most sincere smile he could muster in light of the pain  present in his heart, Erwin proffered a hand. “Whatever kind you like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> *</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the police academy, cadets learned basic first aid skills. Nothing crazy or that required extreme skill, but just enough to help keep someone alive until EMS could arrive, should the occasion call. He kept a tactical kit at home just in case, though never used it for anything more than a band-aid here or an ice pack there. Thankfully, that was all the more the minor cuts (and his minor skills) required. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The emotional repairs, however? Erwin felt entirely ill-equipped to handle those, though he longed to be of some service.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you are,” Erwin said softly, pulling a tan adhesive bandage from the box. He peeled away the white backing and prompted Levi to turn over his injured hand. Levi had calmed considerably and was sitting at Erwin’s kitchen table, a nervous tremble taking to his limbs, likely from the adrenaline draining from his body. Reluctantly, he rolled his injured left hand over, uncurling his fingers from where he still clutched the bloody rag, as though clinging for dear life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can put it on myself,” Levi muttered sheepishly, trying (and failing) to hide his blush in the shoulder of his thick mustard-colored sweater. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” Erwin assured with a smile, “I don’t mind.” He was doing his best not to focus on the wedding ring, or ask about it. But was he wearing that last time? How foolish to assume such a beauty was single. Though this brought on the most important question - was his spouse also his abuser? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” His tone was almost demure, laden with gratitude as if Erwin had just reattached a missing leg rather than put a few band-aids on some light cuts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What sort of tea do you like?” the blonde asked, rising from where he had been seated across from the injured student. “I have green tea, black tea, jasmine…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jasmine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erwin smiled. “Jasmine it is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>///</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head was swimming, his thoughts slowly coming back to him. The fingertips of his left hand stung, but this pain was nothing in comparison to the things he endured at home on a regular basis. Besides, the sweet care he had just received from the gorgeous blonde made the pain very much worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, mainly because of the fog brought on by his PTSD episode, he was shocked to find himself in his pottery instructor’s loft. He didn’t even remember what happened, not really. One moment he had been looking at the art pieces along the back shelves of the shop and then the next, Erwin was standing behind him, Levi’s slender back leaning against a broad chest. The blonde had wrapped a comforting arm around him, helping guide him up the set of steps, all the while murmuring sweet reassurances, telling him that things were going to be okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now, said man was in the kitchen, busying himself with an old school tea kettle on a gas stove. It gave Levi his first real chance to glance around and gather his bearings. It was a loft, alright, and not a very large one as far as square footage. Though what it lacked in size, it made up for in charm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The floor was hardwood and it looked original to the building, the color a deep chestnut, the grain pattern interesting and filled with knots and pinholes, giving it character. The walls were entirely brick, each stone a varying shade of carmine and rust, the mortar colored a graying shade of white, a telltale sign of its age. Three tall, black metal windows lined the west well, giving a beautiful view of the front of the old bookstore across the street, the trademark green awning recognizable anywhere. From outside, the fading light of day cast cold blue and gray tones over the open concept room. Along the length of the vaulted ceiling, there were exposed steel beams, adding to the industrial charm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Overall, Erwin’s choice in furniture was minimalist, yet classic. A long gray couch and matching armchair faced a fireplace, a television mounted above it. A gorgeous imported Persian rug graced the front of the seating area, a simple glass coffee table centered over it. From his spot at the kitchen table, he could see a small collection of ceramics on the mantel, each unique and clearly made by his favorite pottery instructor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had only been in Erwin’s home a grand total of ten minutes, and this place already felt more warm and homey than his own mansion in which he lived for the past several years. Unsurprisingly, it was probably because of who he was with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want anything to with your tea?” Erwin asked. He was leaning against the counter beside the stove, arms folded across his chest, the tea beginning to boil as the kettle whistled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, thank you,” the smaller man said softly, bringing his gaze back down to his injured hand. He would have to come up with a really good excuse tonight as to what happened. Maybe an accident with a sculpting tool? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Levi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picked up his head. “Hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” His tone was careful, twin thick brows furrowed in concern, ocean eyes blue and calm, like still waters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah.” He held up his injured hand. “Just a few cuts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pottery teacher had a powerful gaze, almost soul rendering, but it wasn’t scary. Not like William’s. “Is someone hurting you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand.” Of course, Levi understood. He knew what was happening, what was being asked of him, but he had to deny it, all of it. There was no way he could tell this stranger what was going on. William would find out and bury him in a shallow grave. He had made that promise before- it wasn’t a threat at this point: it was an honest-to-god vow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am a former member of the Boston PD,” Erwin started as means of explanation, reaching over to switch off the kettle. “I just wanted you to know that if something was going on, you could tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And how Levi considered spilling his guts, opening up about all the things that William had put him through, continued to put him through. Never before had someone asked about his abuse, he had no one in his life to even notice. There was simply no one around to care. Once, he thought Dot was going to ask, but alas, William walked in at the last moment and ruined the old man’s opportunity, spoiling his chance at being freed from his abuser. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A white teacup was placed unceremoniously in the front of him, the contents a rich brown color, the smell aromatic and grounding. Maybe he </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> find the courage. Maybe he</span>
  <em>
    <span> could</span>
  </em>
  <span> say something. Maybe things </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>be alright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth. His heart pounded in his chest, hot blood surging through his veins.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am alive. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Someone is listening to me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Be strong, Levi.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> “I…”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yeah, so I left you on a cliffhanger. Sorry. At least I updated...? I guess? *nervous laughter* </p><p>Really though, I just wanna say thank you for all of the love you have left me for this fic. It means a lot. I love AOT and Eruri, obviously, but my main fandom is Haikyuu. I promise I haven't abandoned this fic (or my ABO Eruri!). Updates are just slower. But thank you, seriously, from the bottom of my heart. </p><p>And as always, a big thanks to my dear friend Meaka for being my number one Eruri fan. I love you, sister! You keep me motivated and encouraged and I appreciate you for that! </p><p>Inspiration for Erwin's loft <a href="https://cdn.trendir.com/wp-content/uploads/old/interiors/2015/11/21/3-warehouse-style-loft-cozied-up-innovative-design-details%20.jpg"><b>here</b></a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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